


St. Anthony, St. Anthony, Won’t You Please Look Around, Something is Lost and Must be Found

by Inaudible (HankTalking)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Unhealthy Relationships, War Table Operation: Protect Clan Lavellan (Dragon Age) - Failure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HankTalking/pseuds/Inaudible
Summary: “Oh one thing? I have a new Jenny near Wycome. Says he saw when your clan…well, I’m sorry that got lost while everything was happening. He says there could be survivors. A few. But they would’ve got away by being hard to find, so…he’ll keep looking? For what it’s worth, anyway. Not much, I suppose, but there you go.”[Past Sera x Inquisitor]
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Sera (Dragon Age)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	St. Anthony, St. Anthony, Won’t You Please Look Around, Something is Lost and Must be Found

Ow. Arse. Rocks an’ shit. And real shit too, piles of shit that come in little balls. What sort of animal shits circles? It isn’t right, dogs and pigs and crap all crap like you’d expect their crap to be, but out here where there’s flies as big fists and blood bighting little arseholes there’s some stupid thing that shits in balls and have turned Sera’s boots green. Lavellan says its just deer but what does she know? Nothing, that’s what. Nothing worth knowing anyway. Unless you know about something that matters to people, it’s not actually knowing anything.

Useless, pretty-arse’d, know-nothing Lavellan pushes on through a springy branch in stupid here woods, and doesn’t seem to notice when it swings back and hits Sera in the face.

“Tit biscuit,” she swears under her breath. She’s already done a lot of swearing _not_ under her breath, but Lavellan didn’t notice when she did that either, so she might as well not strain her voice.

“Your Jenny said here?” Lavellan speaks up, just because, not because of anything Sera does or cares about or is hurt by. Just because he has thoughts and she’s going to say them.

“I don’t know!” Sera scoffs. “He just said ‘this forest here.’ And like, mementos and elf garbage and things.” There’s this big, brown, fuzzy thing that’s stuck to Sera’s shoulder. When she tries to wipe it off, it turns out it’s stabby as well as fuzzy.

Lavellan, again, only hears what she wants to hear. She goes to keep walking, but then stops all together, her head snapping to what it takes Sera a lot longer to recognize as the sound of a brook. By the time she’s got the brown hate ball off her, Lavellan’s already along again.

When Sera catches up, she’s leaning over one of those demon things. Shrines? Whatever. It’s got snakes on it, not live snakes, but carved ones out of wood, and flowers and dried meat as offerings. Bugger that. Can’t trust anything that worships snakes. That should be obvious to anyone, right? Don’t leave stuff out for the evil things or the things that shape-shop-shift into evil things. Just common sense.

Sera begins splashing about in the brook, trying to get the green shite off her boots. She half hopes Lavellan will scold her or get pissy for desecrating nature or whatever, but she’s too busy looking at snakes. Creepy.

“Sera.” Or maybe not. Sera keeps splashing. “ _Sera_.”

Okay, that was not a usual Sera-stop-doing-normal-things-and-listen-to-me-talk-about-what-pissant-you-are-to-our-glory-stuff but more a Sera-bad-things-are-about-to-happen. Sera stops splashing.

Lavellan has her bow draw, pointed at the still woods where the green is all aflutter with the soft wavy motions. Sera doesn’t share her whole living in the woods smelling like halla hearing, but she still knows an ambush when it prickles the back of her neck. She draws her own bow.

Creeping forward, Lavellan keeps one foot directly of the other. Sera flanks her, keeping her eyes in the tree shade where everything could be nothing or everything all at once. They walk like that, slow for long ugly minutes, until a branch snaps somewhere up ahead. They both stop.

“Elvhen im ada?” Lavellan says into the woods, talking at no one and nothing.

There is a pause. “…Ama tel’ada?”

The voice helps Sera see. There’s a Dalish crouched on a rock above them, skin all speckled calico from what must be sun dapples until she realizes it’s just like that, his face-whatsits pale and stringy on his hungry face. Lavellan drops her bow.

“Milo?” she says, breath all gone like someone just socked her in the stomach.

His muscles shake, coiled, and he looks at Sera until Lavellan reaches over and _makes_ her lower her bow. Bad idea. This elfy elf looks like he still could decide he doesn’t want the wrong sorts anywhere near him if that sword is anything to go by. People with swords, always mucking everything up.

“When I heard,” Lavellan is saying at the elf on the rocks, “I had hoped…abelas falon…”

It must be he didn’t recognize her, because as soon as she comes close his eyes go big tea saucer and he drops his sword with a clatter. It goes spinning down the rocks and he comes scrambling after it, landing in an ankle breaking way but still running up to her. Then they’re hugging, Lavellan and Milo’s-his-name, saying too much in fake not real words for Sera to understand it.

She blows a raspberry. Dalish. Too busy talking in made up stuff to care if anyone around can understand. She wants not to be here anymore, but not in the skin itch way she didn’t want to be here before, but a below the skin way that her insides don’t like at all. Then, Milo and Lavellan touch foreheads, all sick and intimate and she _really_ doesn’t want to be here, not with them whispering words to each other and wet coming down both of their cheeks.

Lavellan steps back from him. “Come back with us. The Inquisition has real food, tents…”

Probably needs that. Beanstalk has that hunger look about him, like a kid you slip a peach to while the merchant’s not looking. But he looks at Sera suddenly with that suspicion in his eyes. “The Inquisition…”

“Things are different now,” Lavellan assures. “The Inquisition is safer. There are other Dalish…”

At that, his eyes go soft. Idiot. He could have found people, any people in the years he’s been living all scrangled in the woods. Could have found a Jenny. But noooo, those weren’t the right sort. Needed those with the marks that showed he’s all for being stepped on and squashed around.

“Alright,” he says. “Okay. If you say so, I trust you. But I need a minute to…to get things.”

“Of course,” Lavellan nods. “All the time you need.”

He wrings his hands, and then goes darting back into the woods, but not without shooting a fearful glance at Sera. She sticks out her tongue.

Then it’s just her and Lavellan again. It suddenly feels weird to be alone, even though they’d been mucking about in the forest for hours together, getting bitten and scratched with thorn plants. Sera sits on a log and groans. “Uhhhg…all that for just one. Thought there’d at least be like a handful.”

Lavellan says nothing.

“Living in the woods, getting all demon happy. Probably same thing you were all doing before, right?”

Lavellan still says nothing.

Sera’s determined though. “You’re probably happy, right? Got your favorite one, looks like.”

Lavellan, who’s been standing near in front with her back to Sera, snaps around. “And what does _that_ mean?”

Sera shrugs. “Just it was a _move_ to bring me around just to make nice with your old gooey-eyes. I don’t care or nothin’. Just saying.”

“It is not even remotely like that.” Lavellan’s grinding her teeth together. “I didn’t know he was _alive_ , you- that’s how things _are_ and you- you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh here we go again.” Sera’s got a stick now, poking at the dirt with it. Trying not to care. Because she doesn’t. She stopped caring and all of that a long time ago and now it’s better to just let the hurt roll off you. All those things she felt about belonging? Pig arse. No one cares even if they pretend to. If she wants someone to care about when she sees everything going wrong, she’s going to have to do it for herself. “Sera doesn’t understand because not all pompous and wallowing. If I practiced my wallowing, then I’d get it, yeah?”

“…You’re a piece of shit, you know,” Lavellan says. “You, _fenedhis_ , I thought you had _changed_. I thought you were helping me cause you’d changed.”

“I’m helping because we’re _friends_ ,” Sera spits. “I’m not changing for anyone, ‘specially no you. That’s just it, innit? You’re too wrapped in everything to _hear_ people, Inquisitor. I’ve been yelling at people for years and years and you never hear me.”

Lavellan clenches her fists again. “Well, then that was my mistake. You were right Sera. Some things just don’t fit.”

Sera waits, and the Inquisitor waits, and they’re both waiting for the other to budge for so long that Milo comes back and they have to leave. Deep down, she’d been hoping, Sera had. She thinks Lavellan was too. But they don’t fit together, and they were stupid for thinking they could.

**Author's Note:**

> okay time to never write sera pov again. i need a nap


End file.
